


Flamme

by TypicalSadWriter



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalSadWriter/pseuds/TypicalSadWriter
Summary: A slightly poetic character study of Elio Perlman, with mild cannon divergence whoops





	Flamme

**Author's Note:**

> This was not at all edited, so feel free to point out mistakes that are really bothering you. Also, English was certainly NOT my first language, so pardon any really weird errors. It’s a hard language to learn, you know?

Most young boys have their sexual awakenings around age eleven, whether it’s a teacher, or a girl in their class. Mine didn’t happen until I was seventeen.  
Sure, I had been attracted to people before him. He wasn’t even the one to take my virginity. However, he was the one who showed me how amazing sex can actually feel; how intimate and loving the act really is.  
He started out by calling it “fucking.” Nothing special there. But then slowly, he would ask to “make love” with me. The saying had made my toes curl, and I realise now that, in that moment, my sexual awakening was truly happening.  
Sex before him was never anything too special. Most of it had been messy, and awkward, and I always had issues with knowing what exactly to do. He guided me through it, though, teaching me so casually that one would almost think he was just showing me how to do something as innocent as one of those rhymes with hand claps from primary school.  
I had a God in my bed every night, when he was still with me. He looked like the statues he was studying, with a strong jawline and an even stronger personality. I could wax endless amounts of poetry about his body; the way it moved, and curved around mine. I still remember the feeling of his hands on my skin.  
I miss him more than I’d care to admit, even now.  
We’ve bumped into each other a few times over the years. The last time we did, he informed me that he was just like me. He remembers everything just the same. It made my stomach curl up to hear, and I felt seventeen all over again.  
I wanted to devour him once more, though that wasn’t an option. Not anymore.  
There was still in itch in the back of my mind, though. One that longed to hear him call to me again.  
Not with my name, but with his own. The all too familiar whisper of, “Oliver,” rolling off of his tongue.  
He did. And it lit a fire in me.  
Even now, the fire is burning, and I’m left with no way to put it out.


End file.
